


Milk and Honey

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: M/M, Mentioned Julian/Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: A series of semi-related Jogan ficlets, inspired by the songs on Halsey's "Hopeless Fountain Kingdom" album.





	1. Prologue

_I am a child of a_  
_Money hungry, prideful country_  
_Grass is green and it's always sunny_  
_Hands so bloody, tastes like honey_  
_I'm finding it hard to leave_

 _I am a child of a money hungry, prideful country_  
_Grass is green and it's always sunny_  
_Hands so bloody, tastes like honey_  
_I'm finding it hard to leave_

_It’s calm, where he is._

_The pain is gone, and his mind is pleasantly clear. It hasn’t always been this way, has it? He’d hurt, before, on the inside. Hadn’t he?_

_It’s like a vague, far-off memory. There’s something he’s meant to do, he thinks, idly._

_But he’s so comfortable. So comfortable and so warm…_

 

“Julian…? Julian, please, open your eyes…”

 

_A voice breaks through the quiet. It’s familiar, somehow, but he can’t seem to place it. It means something, he knows, that voice. It had been important to him._

_I’m here, he tries to say, but his lips don’t move. He’s suddenly aware that he can’t seem to control his body, if he even has a body. It should frighten him. Instead, it just enhances the calmness._

_If you don’t have a body, you can never hurt._

_He's so tired of hurting..._

 

“Julian, please, I’m begging you, come on…”

 

_The voice sounds desperate now. He has a strange urge to comfort it, to reassure the voice that he’s okay. That he won’t hurt anymore._

_I like it here, he thinks, I can be happy here…_

_I wasn’t happy before._

_Warmth begins to envelop him, like a hug from an old friend…_

 

“This isn’t fair—this isn’t fair, you can’t do this—you can’t! Please…open your eyes…”

 

 _It’s okay, he thinks, it’s okay, don’t cry for me. I’m_ happy _…_

_The warmth is spreading throughout his body now, warmth and calm and light…_

_He lets himself be surrounded by the nothingness._

_It’s beautiful, where he is._

_Beautiful._


	2. 100 Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't *exactly* a songfic, since it deviates from the original story of the song, but I took a breakup song and gave you something that isn't a breakup, so you can't be too upset, right?

_And then I can't stop thinking that I can't stop thinking_  
_That I almost gave you everything_  
_And now the whole thing's finished and I can't stop wishing_  
_That I never gave you anything_

 _He said "please don't go away"_  
_He said "please don't go away"_  
_I said "it's too late"_  
_I said "it's too late”_

 

Logan doesn’t understand Julian, most of the time.

He’s a bit of an enigma; the boy who grins and laughs and dances in the rain, who lords over others like he’s a prince. The boy who sometimes looks sad when nobody’s watching, who stares out the window like he’s longing to be far away, who sometimes just fixes Logan with these _looks_ he can’t interpret.

The boy who always leaves.

He knows it’s not something he’s allowed to be angry about.

Julian’s an actor, a real, bonafide, celebrity with commitments and obligations and work. He handles interviews like a seasoned pro, walks the red carpet like he was born for it, smiles at the camera like it’s his best friend.

But at school, he’s different.

In all the magazines, on all the screens, Julian’s smile is bright and dazzling, but Logan just sees it as so, so _fake_.

He wouldn’t have realized if he hadn’t seen the real thing. The toothy grin, the dimples, the honest-to-God _sparkle_ in Julian’s eyes when he finds something truly amusing. When he’s _happy_.

But if Julian’s really as happy as he seems, why does he leave?

Logan watches, time after time, as Julian packs a suitcase. He listens as Julian talks excitedly about a new script, a new job, a new opportunity. Each and every time, he wants to say _no, no you idiot,_ this _is your opportunity. Being a kid. Going to school. Doing dumb teenage stuff with me and Derek._

But then Julian smiles, and it looks so _real_.

Sometimes, Logan isn’t sure Julian ever stops acting.

 

.

 

It pisses Julian off, that Logan never bothers to call when he’s in Hollywood.

Derek texts—dumb jokes he’d heard in class or snarky observations about the other students. But Logan doesn’t send him a goddamn thing.

He knows, logically, that _he_ could reach out. _He_ could text Logan, _he_ could start a conversation.

But another part of him sees this as some strange, twisted psychological experiment — to see how long Logan will go without contacting him. How long it takes for him to miss him.

For Julian, it’s mere hours. He barely makes it on the plane before his fingers are itching for his phone, begging him to send Logan something.

It hurts, that Logan doesn’t miss him at all. That he can go days, weeks without talking and not care.

"He doesn't want to bother you," Derek's told him a thousand times, "He assumes you're busy, he says you'll call  if you want to talk."

It sounds like an excuse, each and every time.

He’s sick of Logan taking him for granted, sick of the expectation that he’ll always come back, no matter what.

Sick that it’s _true_.

He won’t go back, he tells himself, every single time.

Maybe then Logan will care, will miss him even a little. Maybe when Logan realizes that Julian’s not disposable, he’ll give a shit.

But he never goes through with it.

He doesn’t want to see how long it’ll take Logan to notice.

 

.

 

_Derek’s car got keyed today. $100 says it was Casey._

Logan’s thumbs hover over the ‘send’ button. He almost presses it, this time, but deletes it at the last second.

Julian’s too busy for high school drama.

He’s off in California somewhere, probably surrounded by dozens of beautiful socialites, laughing as he sneaks glasses of champagne behind his mother’s back.

He’s too important for them.

Logan sighs and tosses his phone to the side and flips open his laptop instead. He’s left Twitter open, and lo and behold, the first thing on his feed is a link Julian’s posted of some interview he’d flown out for. Logan clicks it without thinking, and a video opens up of Julian and Clark Sawyer, laughing with an interviewer and answering questions about the latest episode of Something Damaged.

It’s fascinating, almost, watching Julian like this. Even the way he holds himself is different on-camera, relaxed and loose in a way Logan rarely gets to see. He cracks jokes, makes faces, playfully shoves Clark with the kind of casual familiarity Logan thought he only showed with them.

An uncomfortable feeling rises in Logan’s gut when he realizes he _misses_ the other boy.

He’s always just a little bit sad when Julian leaves, of course. He only has two friends, and losing one — even temporarily — always seems to make him feel a little more lonely than usual.

But sometimes, the way he misses Julian is different.

Sometimes, he gets the feeling Julian might leave for good.

He’s already different than them. He already has a job, a life, a whole _world_ separate from theirs. Logan had always hoped, perhaps naively, that Dalton gave Julian something he couldn’t get in California. That their friendship, the privateness, the calmness of school was something Julian needed.

But watching Julian in his element like that, looking casual and relaxed and _happy_ …

It makes him think Julian doesn’t need their world at all.

 

.

 

It sucks.

It fucking sucks that Julian can’t find a substitute for the way he feels with Logan.

He tries. _God_ , does he try.

At some point, he decides he won’t discriminate. He started with blondes, with tall men with green eyes, and he felt nothing but emptiness. So he starts expanding his horizons. He kisses short red-haired girls with blue eyes, sneaks out of clubs with muscular black-haired boys, goes on dates with boys who can’t sing and girls who can, with anyone and everyone that shows even a fraction of interest, because maybe all he needs is someone to care.

But it doesn’t feel the same.

It almost does, once or twice.

With Sebastian, who makes him laugh and holds his hand, who sings with him and dances in hotel rooms.

With Clark, who’s just a friend, but who worries and hovers and brings Julian soup when he’s sick.

With strangers at clubs, with actors in scenes, with an endless string of attractive, interested people.

But there’s always something _missing_ , always something he half-forgets until he’s back by Logan’s side. It’s like he’s whole again, when Logan smiles at him. Like he leaves behind part of himself every time he gets on a plane.

And Julian hates it.

He wants to scream at Logan, to beat on his chest until he agrees to give it _back_ , whatever he took from Julian all those years ago.

Until he agrees to let Julian go.

 

.

 

Logan feels sick, when he thinks too hard about the past three years.

About the pain Julian must’ve felt each and every day.

It’s overwhelming, trying to work through three years of Julian’s words and actions. Each and every time Julian left and came back, each hurtful thing Logan had done or said or thought.

He couldn’t remember the last good thing he’d said to Julian, the last happy memory Julian might’ve had of him.

He throws up, the day he realizes all the times Julian had helped with his relationships. He’d never made a big deal about it, and Logan had never thought much of it; Julian was his friend and he had the money and the resources to help Logan plan elaborate dates.

Had he ever even thanked him…?

He spends hours scrolling through old texts, trying to read into what Julian was actually trying to say. He catches a few things, a few slip-ups here and there, where he should’ve noticed something was wrong. But all in all, the actor hid it well.

He feels like he should’ve known Julian better than that.

Sure, maybe he couldn’t have figured everything out himself. But he’d never even realized Julian was interested in boys, too. He watches old interviews, replaying any question about Julian’s love life.

He never uses pronouns, Logan notices one day. How had nobody caught that? How had he never caught that?

And there’s pictures, online, pictures and speculation of Julian’s relationships with other guys. Nothing incriminating, of course, because Julian’s smart, but enough that Logan should’ve at least questioned…

But maybe he’s being too hard on himself.

Maybe Julian was too good at hiding things. Too good at acting.

Or maybe Logan just never looked at him long enough to see it.

 

.

 

Logan knows.

It takes a few days to sink in.

He’s a little preoccupied, with the just-waking-up-from-a-coma thing.

But then things calm down just a little, and he’s tucked in his own bed at home, with the sound of his mother on the phone downstairs coordinating doctor’s appointments, physical therapy, phone interviews.

He’s relieved to be here, curled in the familiar blankets rather than scratchy hospital sheets.

Then he remembers, and he suddenly wishes for a little less quiet.

Logan _knows_.

He takes in a harsh breath, tries desperately to stop the panic attack in its tracks before his mother comes rushing in.

Logan _knows_.

Logan _knows_ , and he’s a thousand miles away.

He reaches for his phone on instinct, thinking, a little hysterically, that maybe this time he’ll have a text, that maybe now Logan will reach out. Maybe he'll have a missed call, a text or two, a fucking  _Snapchat_ from the boy who's ruined him.

It’s dead.

It’s a relief, really. If he’d checked, if he’d opened his messages and there hadn’t been something from Logan, he would’ve done his best to slip back into that coma, to disappear into nothing again until everything just stopped.

What would he even have to say?

“ _Jules, I’m sorry.”_

_“Jules, it was a joke, right?”_

_“Jules, I don’t love you.”_

Julian reaches for his nightstand, yanks open the drawer and shoves his phone deep inside where he doesn’t have to think about it.

Logan knows, and Julian doesn’t know how to deal with it.

 

.

 

It’s not a sudden realization, how much Julian means to him.

He’s always known he’s important. Logan doesn’t really have anyone. Julian and Derek are his family, and he doesn’t understand how he took them for granted for so long.

He tells Derek first, because it’s easier.

Tells him how much he values his friendship, how sorry he is for spending so many years dumping his own issues on them, for not bothering to stop and think about Derek’s problems.

Derek’s patient with him, but he doesn’t hold back. He points out some of the fucked-up shit Logan hadn’t realized himself, tells him what hurt and what he could’ve changed.

They’re both emotional, afterwards, embracing each other and pretending neither of their faces are wet with tears.

He isn’t sure what to do about Julian.

He isn’t answering his phone, not for anyone. Logan knows he doesn’t check his email himself, knows his Twitter and Instagram accounts will be flooded with thousands of fans and well-wishers. He starts a letter, but he can’t seem to find the words. He tries a song, but that doesn’t feel right either.

So he does something impulsive and a little stupid, and he buys a plane ticket.

He tries to rehearse what he’s going to say on the flight, but it’s somehow impossibly short, and Logan’s in a cab to Malibu before he knows it.

 _Julian_ , he thinks, as they pull onto the freeway, _I’m sorry. For everything. For every way I’ve hurt you._

 _Julian_ , sitting in traffic, _You’re one of the most important people in my life._

 _Julian_ , on a palm-tree lined street, _I need you._

 _Julian_ , as the cab pulls into the driveway, _I love you._

He’s still rehearsing in his mind, when the door opens. He looks up, ready to explain to Dolce Larson why he needs to see her son, that he has something important to tell her.

The words freeze in his throat when he sees Julian in front of him instead, looking thin and tired and confused but so blindingly, brilliantly alive.

“Julian,” he says, instead, his voice catching in his throat, “Please don’t give up on me.”


	3. Eyes Closed

_Now if I keep my eyes closed he looks just like you_   
_But he'll never stay, they never do_   
_Now if I keep my eyes closed he feels just like you_   
_But you've been replaced_   
_I'm face to face with someone new_

_They don't realize that I'm thinking about you_   
_It's nothing new, it's nothing new_

It’s reckless, he knows, for him to be here.

But the club is dark, the music loud, the patrons drunk enough that they might not realize who he is.

He’s careful to come only on the most crowded nights, when the chaos of the dance floor is already at its peak. Careful to keep his face in shadows, his back to his dance partner.

After all, there’s a few people he’ll owe explanations to if he’s noticed at a _gay club_.

He tries not to think about that, now, with the bass loud and his limbs loose. He feels two strong, muscled arms wrap around his waist and smirks, swaying his hips to the beat. The arms wrap around him, hands slowly stroking his hips.

A pair of warm lips press against his neck, and he lets his eyes flutter shut.

_Would Logan feel like this?_

He lets the man’s hands wander, continues dancing as fingers slip across his jeans, beneath his waistband.

Another faceless man presses against his front, and Julian brings one arm up around his shoulders. He opens his eyes just slightly, enough to see blond hair and eyes that could almost be green. The man smirks down at him and licks his lips. Julian tilts his chin up, lets the man pull him into a deep, dirty kiss.

_Would Logan kiss like this?_

He lets himself be carried by the music, lets his brain shut off so his body can enjoy this feeling, of hands touching him and lips caressing his skin. He wants this, needs this, the feeling of being desired. And if his mind conjures images of someone else, well, these strangers never have to know.

He bounces around a few dance partners, lets strange men buy him drinks and flirts outrageously with anyone who shows interest.

He never goes home alone.

This time, he sneaks out the back with a nameless man, one who can’t keep his hands off Julian’s body.

He lets himself touch and be touched in the car, tips the driver way too much, and follows the stranger to an apartment on the outskirts of the city.

The man undresses him quickly, doesn’t bother to ask for his name before he pulls Julian into his bed.

_Would Logan fuck like this?_

When it’s over, Julian always leaves.

Sometimes, the stranger will ask him to stay. Sometimes, he’s tempted.

But he always leaves, before the drink can wear off and the regret can set in. He knows he’ll be disappointed in the morning, when he wakes up and sees not Logan in the bed beside him.

But at night?

At night he’ll pretend, with a thousand strangers. Pretend it's Logan touching him, Logan kissing him, Logan fucking him. Pretend Logan would ever want him this way, would ever pull him close and whisper filthy things in his ear. It's horrible and disgusting and  _pathetic_ , but he can't stop.

Frankly, he isn't sure he wants to.

 


	4. Heaven in Hiding

_Sittin' on the counter in your kitchen_   
_Can you hear my heartbeat fucking kickin'?_   
_Your eyes light up 'cause you best believe that I got something up my sleeve_   
_I walk my talk, no time for wishful thinking_   
_I push up on my toes, you call me "sweet thing"_   
_And breathing down your neck, your body screaming_   
_And you thought that you were the boss tonight, but I can put up one good fight_   
_I flip the script like I can take a beating_

_And when you start to feel the rush_   
_A crimson headache, aching blush_   
_And you surrender to the touch, you'll know_   
_I can put on a show, I can put on a show_   
_Don't you see what you're finding?_   
_This is heaven in hiding, oh_

_And when you start to look at me, a physical fatality_   
_And you surrender to the heat, you'll know_   
_I can put on a show, I can put on a show_   
_Don't you see what you're finding?_   
_This is heaven in hiding_   
_This is heaven in hiding, oh._

Logan hates these parties.

He’s only here because Michelle had asked, and he actually gives a shit about pleasing the one decent parental figure in his life. It’s important for her, for some reason, to have him here. But he’s so uncomfortable in this tux, this room, this facade of a happy little family.

Michelle comes up behind him, rests a hand on his shoulder, and winks as she hands him a glass of champagne.

“I know you’re not old enough,” she says, conspiratorially, “But it makes it easier.”

He tries to smile for her, and she straightens his tie, beaming.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she gushes, for the third time already tonight, “I know this must be boring for you, but it means a lot to your father.”

Logan scowls, “I’m here because _you_ asked me. Not him.”

Her shining smile wavers for a moment, and Logan feels uncomfortably guilty.

“He does care, Logan. He may not be good at showing it, but he does care.”

“Yeah. Yeah sure, whatever.”

Michelle looks a little bit sad, but then her gaze catches on something just over Logan’s shoulder and she brightens.

“Oh look!” She says happily, “Your friend showed up.”

Logan turns, curiously, and almost chokes on his champagne when he sees _Julian Larson_ standing in the doorway.

“What is he doing here?” He asks, stunned.

“Oh, honey, I thought you’d be happy! There’s nobody your age here and I ran into him at Barney’s yesterday so I invited him,” she frowns, concerned, “Is that not okay?”

Logan shakes his head, pasting on a false smile for her sake, “No, no it’s fine. I’m just surprised is all, he didn’t tell me.”

Michelle looks satisfied at that. She gives him one last look-over, brushes a speck of lint of his suit, and twirls back into her role as happy hostess, somehow successfully making John look a little more human.

It isn’t her fault. She doesn’t know. _Can’t_ know.

She has no idea the awkward, painful in-between stage he’s at with Julian right now.

When Julian had woken up, when he’d finally been conscious enough to deal with everything that had happened, he’d refused to talk about what he’d said back in the Art Hall. Anytime Logan tried to bring it up, he’d been firmly shut down.

 _“I just can’t, okay?”_ Julian said once, eyes wide and desperate, _“I can’t talk to you about that. I’m not ready.”_

So Logan backed off, trying so hard to finally give Julian what he needed.

But things had still _changed_.

“Hey,” Julian sidles up beside him, looking so much more comfortable in his tux than Logan is, “Sorry I didn’t call. Michelle asked yesterday and I wasn’t sure…I didn’t actually decide to come until like..an hour ago.”

Logan’s throat feels dry, suddenly, and he takes another gulp of champagne before speaking.

“I uh…I didn’t even know you were in New York.”

Julian laughs and ducks his head a little, and Logan’s eyes track a strand of hair as it falls across Julian’s forehead.

“That was kind of a spontaneous decision, too,” he admits, “Haven performed on SNL yesterday and Clark asked if I wanted to come. I think he uh…I think he’s trying to be like a therapist, you know? Make sure I don’t spend too much time alone, or something.”

“Yeah,” Logan nods, “Yeah being alone is…you shouldn’t. Be alone.”

Julian smiles, amused, “Yeah.”

He bites at his lower lip, still smiling.

“I think I need another drink,” Logan blurts out, “I’m gonna get another drink. Do you want a drink?”

“I…sure?” Julian’s smile stays in place, but his brow furrows, “I..I guess I’ll take a drink.”

Logan nods once, and turns back to the kitchen, fingers twitching nervously as he goes off to fetch two glasses.

Things have _changed_ between them.

They haven’t talked about Julian’s admission, or Logan’s still-burgeoning feelings. But the energy between them is different, and Logan’s suddenly noticing things he’d never allowed himself to pay attention to before.

Like how goddamn _pretty_ Julian is.

Especially now, in his fitted tux, with what appears to be a new haircut, with that _smile_ …

 

  
_They’d gone to the Hamptons for a week, not long after Julian had been declared medically fit enough to travel on his own. Dolce had pitched a fit, of course, but Julian had begged to go, to do something to feel normal again._

_Derek and Logan had fussed over him, of course, but it seemed good for him. He’d relished in the lazy days of late summer, slept in until noon and lounged out by the pool while the other two played tennis, had even joined in a game or two — though he’d nearly eviscerated Derek for trying to go easy on him._

_It was the little things, though, that morphed the dynamic of their relationship._

_Logan had stared before, he knows. Derek had caught him, once or twice, and mocked him until Logan pushed him into a pool._

_But this time, when his eyes are drawn to Julian climbing gracefully out of the pool, when he traces the path of water droplets as they run down Julian’s chest, Julian’s staring back._

_There’s a strange heat between them, and Logan feels guilty almost, for having these thoughts before they can talk._

_But he’s still staring, and Julian’s still staring, and neither looks away._

 

 

Logan shakes off the memory, taking a deep breath as he turns back to the party with two champagne flutes.

Julian’s since been dragged into a conversation with some politicians’ wife, and Logan can tell he’s bored by the way he smiles politely and shifts from foot to foot.

He walks up to him, holding the champagne glass out, and their fingers brush for just a moment.

Julian’s breath hitches, and Logan’s stomach flutters, and their eyes lock again, even as the woman attempts to continue her conversation. Julian pulls the glass back, turns back to her with a smile, and Logan twists away and searches for any other familiar face in the crowd.

He quickly finds himself pretending to listen to a conversation between the District Attorney and some Senate-hopeful, who seem to hope Logan can convince John to lend support or aid. He isn’t fully focused on what they’re asking, though. Despite his best efforts, his eyes keep finding Julian across the room.

He’d feel weird about it, if Julian wasn’t staring right back each and every time.

 

  
_Logan’s already on his second cup of coffee by the time Julian wakes up and makes his way into the kitchen. He pauses mid-sip, watching as the other boy pads into the kitchen in nothing but a worn pair of sweats, rubbing sleepily at his eyes._

_“Derek go for his run already?” He asks through a yawn._

_Logan snorts, “Already gone and come back from his run, actually. Think he’s in the basement, tossing weights around or something.”_

_Julian grins, “Poor thing. We can’t all be blessed with flawless bodies, I guess.”_

_Logan knows it’s an attempt at a self-deprecating joke, knows Julian’s been self-conscious about the weight he lost while in a coma, the slight scarring that’s only half-faded, the way they’d shorn his burnt hair off._

_He’s still pretty damn close to flawless, though, and suddenly Logan’s staring again._

_Julian moves to the coffeemaker, slowly pours himself a mug with his back turned to Logan._

_He’s trying to be nice by grabbing the creamer and sugar, kept in a cabinet just out of Julian’s reach. He doesn’t quite realize how close he’s standing until Julian turns and almost runs into him. Julian’s eyes widen slightly, and Logan catches him before he can stumble, one hand pressed against the naked skin of his hip._

_“…here,” Logan says shortly, holding the creamer out._

_They’re both slightly pink when they move apart, but Julian just turns back to making his coffee, and Logan pretends he didn’t feel a spark when they’d touched._

 

  
“Logan!” Michelle calls, from across the room, “Logan, darling, come here for a moment, would you?”

Logan obediently follows her beckons, moves to stand beside his father and stepmother.

“They want a family picture for…oh what was it, the _New Yorker_?”

Logan just steps to the side, tries not to wince too visibly when John rests a hand on his shoulder. The camera flashes, and the photographer peers down at her screen.

“Hm…Mrs. Wright, would you mind stepping just a bit forward? The lighting’s just a bit off.”

Michelle moves, and the photographer positions herself again.

Just before the flash, Logan sees Julian in the corner of the room, looking endlessly amused. He lifts his fingers to his mouth, mimes pulling up the corners.

“ _Smile_!” he mouths, grinning, and Logan can’t stop himself.

“Perfect!” The photographer beams at them, “I can use this, thank you so much.”

Julian makes his way over, laughing a little.

“You know, for all the jokes you get about looking like an Abercrombie model, you sure do look uncomfortable anytime someone puts a camera in your face.”

“Well excuse me, princess,” Logan says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t literally born on camera.”

Julian’s still grinning wide, right as another flash goes off beside them.

Logan immediately pulls Julian close, steps in front of him as the photographer looks sheepish.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I just…They’re always looking for photos of celebrities at these kinds of things. I’m not sure if you’d be willing to talk about your political views, Mr. Larson…”

“He’s not here for that,” Logan snaps, “He’s here as my friend, and I don’t appreciate you taking photos of him without his permission.”

She looks stunned, that this teenager is confronting her about her doing her job, and Julian squeezes Logan’s arm.

“Look,” Julian says, trying to smile, “I’d really appreciate if you didn’t use that. I’m kind of just trying to lie low for a while, for obvious reasons.”

“Right. Right of course, I’ll delete it.”

“I will, actually,” Logan says firmly, ignoring the way Julian’s trying to tug him away before he can make a scene. He holds a hand out, expectantly, and the photographer scowls as she hands over the camera.

It’s a good picture of them, actually. They’re both smiling at each other, eyes shining. Had they really been standing that close…?

He deletes it quickly before handing the camera back, and the photographer turns on her heel without another word.

“…you know that’s kind of normal for me, right?” Julian says from behind him, “I can handle photographers.”

“It’s _my house_ ,” Logan says, still a little irritated, “You shouldn’t have to worry about having your privacy invaded in _my house_.”

Julian raises an eyebrow, “There’s over a hundred people here right now. I didn’t really expect any semblance of privacy.”

Logan sighs, knowing he’s overreacted a bit.

“Thanks, though,” Julian says, softer this time. He knocks against Logan with a shoulder, smiling softly up at him, “For doing that. I’d kind of like to look a little more like myself again before I wind up in every magazine in America.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Logan says unthinkingly, “You’re still beautiful.”

Julian’s breath hitches at that, and Logan’s suddenly aware of how _close_ they are, how easy it would be to lean in…

 

  
_“Are you watching him sleep again?” Derek asks, incredulous, “It’s starting to get creepy, you know.”_

_“I know,” Logan says, “I just like knowing he’s going to wake up, this time.”_

_He watches Julian’s chest rise and fall, the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheek. When Julian rolls over, pulling the blankets up to his chin, Logan grins, just happy to see his friend okay again._

_“It’s been months, Lo,” Derek continues, “He’s gonna be alright.”_

_“Yeah. But he almost wasn’t.”_

_Derek sighs and leaves him be, and Logan turns back to his book, every so often glancing back up to watch Julian breathe. He looks so relaxed like this, like he hasn’t just gone through hell and back and made it out alive. He looks young, and carefree, and beautiful._

_Logan leans forward and presses a barely-there kiss to Julian’s forehead, freezing when he realizes what he’s done._

_Julian doesn’t stir, though, and Logan sighs in relief before standing up, moving across the room to find Derek before he can do anything else stupid._

_He’s halfway to the door when Julian’s eyes crack open, gaze fixed curiously on the blond’s retreating back._

 

  
It’s nearing the end of the night, and Logan’s pretty sure he’s going insane.

He keeps seeing Julian out of the corner of his eyes, keeps wanting to go talk to him even though he’s terrified of doing something he shouldn’t. It’s like they’re in some strange dance, meeting for just a moment before twirling away, always magnetically drawn back together.

Michelle seems to notice something’s going on, and she heads Logan’s way with a look of concern on her face.

“Is everything alright?” She asks, kindly, “the party wasn’t too much for Julian, was it?”

“No,” he says, “No he’s used to this kind of thing. I think he likes doing stuff like this. It makes him forget what happened for a little while.”

“You’re not fighting, are you?” Michelle presses, “I thought you’d be glued together all night, but it’s like you’ve barely spoken…”

She glances at Julian, across the room, and he suddenly looks up, as if he heard them talking about him.

“No,” Logan says, feeling very warm all of a sudden, “We’re not fighting. I just…I need some air.”

He shoves his now-empty glass—his third? fourth?—into Michelle’s hand and tears from the room, pushing his way through the crowd and out to the balcony. He leans against the railing and breathes, shutting his eyes tight.

He hears the door creak open after a minute and sighs.

“I’m fine, Michelle,” he says without moving, “Just feeling a little tired.”

“You’re not that much of a lightweight, Lo,” says a decidedly not-Michelle voice, and Logan tenses, “You’re not upset that I came, are you?”

Julian’s gazing at him curiously, when Logan turns.

“No,” Logan says, after a beat, “I’m not upset.”

“But it is something else, isn’t it?” Julian steps forward, frowning a little as he levels a calculating look at the blond, “Something’s on your mind.”

Logan’s throat feels drier, the nearer Julian is.

“I’m…”

“You’re what?” Julian says, now no more than few inches away.

“ _Jules_ ,” he all but whimpers, and Julian leans in the rest of the way, pressing their lips together.

Logan brings his hands up on instinct, one wrapping around the actor’s waist and the other sliding up to cup his jaw. They stand together for a moment, lips pressed gently together. But then Logan can’t help himself anymore. He deepens the kiss, pulling Julian flush against him as his tongue sweeps across his lower lip. He’s vaguely aware of one of them letting out a soft moan, but doesn’t let up until Julian has to break to breathe.

They don’t move apart, for a moment, both panting and staring.

“Um…” Julian says, finally, looking a bit flustered, “You wanted that too, right? It wasn’t just…I wasn’t making things up?”

“No,” Logan says, “I mean…yeah. Yeah I wanted it. You weren’t…it wasn’t just you.”

“Oh,” Julian says, nodding, “That’s good. Good.”

Logan traces over Julian’s mouth with a thumb, and he grins when the brunet blushes.

“I think I’m ready,” Julian says softly, “To talk. If you want.”

Logan nods, presses one more chaste kiss to Julian’s lips.

“Yeah. Yeah I want. Let’s get out of here.”


	5. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the song that made me wanna write this, just FYI.
> 
> And I'm well aware I could've used the "night out in Paris" line for something VASTLY different but I wanted this to be more of a Julian-centric-feelings-angst piece.

_I stayed a night out in Paris where they don't know my name_

_And I got into some trouble with that drink in my veins_

_I got a problem with parties 'cause it's loud in my brain_   
_And I can never say sorry 'cause I won't take the blame_   
_I know I always go missing and you're lying awake_   
_But if you ask why I'm distant, oh, I'm running away_

_You know that everywhere I go_

_I got a million different people tryna kick it_

_But I'm still alone in my mind_

_I know you're dying to meet me_

_But I can just tell you this_

_Baby, as soon as you meet me_

_You'll wish that you never did_

 

It sounds ridiculous, Julian knows, to complain about his life. He’s rich, he’s gorgeous, he’s talented. Everyone wants to be him.

Except _him_ , sometimes.

He knows he doesn’t have the kind of problems other people his age do. He’s not like Derek, fighting every day for his parents’ approval, or Logan, who knows he’ll never get it. He has everything he could ever want, really — a huge house, the best cars, designer clothes. More money than he knows what to do with, if he’s being completely honest.

But if he has everything, why does he feel so empty?

Logan had said once, in a fit of rage, that sometimes it felt like Julian never stopped acting. Julian had snapped back at him, screamed things he’d immediately regretted, and taken off on the soonest flight. He’d been so angry, he remembers. Not because Logan had hurt his feelings, but because he, once again, understood Julian better than he even realized.

He’s unsure, sometimes, where his characters end and his own personality begins. It starts to take a toll after a while, the constant slipping in and out of other people. He knows some of his traits are adopted from roles: his love of classic cars, his tendency to run a hand through his hair when he’s stressed, certain elements of his fashion sense.

Sometimes, though, it’s hard to tell what is and isn’t real. If some of the things he does and thinks and _feels_ is all part of some act he didn’t even realize he was putting on, if his reactions to things are natural or part of a script he’s writing in his head.

He knows nobody will understand. _He_ doesn’t understand, really. He should be happy.

He’s surrounded by people all the time. Beautiful, talented people eager to please him, people who smile at him and ask about his work and offer him the world. His last birthday party—held at LA’s finest club, naturally—had over five hundred guests; five hundred people celebrating him.

And he still felt so awfully, overwhelmingly _lonely_.

Hundreds of people, all desperate to be around him, and he still feels like he has no one.

  
That’s not quite true, though, he supposes. He knows he has some people that care. Cameron, Clark, Derek.

Logan.

But if he can’t even be honest with _them_ , the people who he calls his friends, who does he have?

Maybe it’s his own problem. Maybe he needs to stop lying, stop hiding. But the thought of that _terrifies_ him. The thought of even them knowing all his secrets makes him want to vomit.

The secrets make him feel safe. They help him compartmentalize. If he lets them go, if he’s honest about everything, he’ll break. His whole act, this whole facade, the split personality he has going between Hollywood and Dalton will all come crumbling down around him.

He isn’t sure if he could handle that. If they all knew everything.

His sexuality. His feelings.

They’d be okay with that, he knows. Mostly.

But if a handful of secrets spill out, where will it end?

He hates feeling weak, hates showing vulnerability. Can’t stand the idea of Logan or Derek or anyone knowing all his pressure points and insecurities.

So he acts.

He smiles, and he laughs, and he pretends that everything’s okay even when he’s screaming on the inside. He’s not always perfect, he knows. Sometimes Cameron will look at him with concern. Sometimes Clark will pull him off set and ask if he’s okay. Sometimes Derek will confront him, push him until he admits something’s wrong. Sometimes, even Logan will notice, will frown at him and ask what’s on his mind.

Sometimes, he’ll even tell them.

Usually, he won’t.

He acts, and he hides, and he lies, and when all that isn’t enough, he leaves. He runs away like a coward, because he doesn’t know how to actually deal with the real world. He has no idea how to navigate actual problems, when there’s no script and no direction.

He acts, and he becomes what everyone wants him to be. The perfect, smiling movie star without a care in the world. Without problems or worries.

He acts, and pretends he isn’t terrified of this charade tumbling. Of the whole world finding out he’s a fraud, a fake, a pretender.

He acts, until he’s alone. Until he can lock himself in a room far from prying eyes and allow himself just a few moments of respite. Until he can cry, and scream, and claw at his own skin in a desperate attempt to pull out the pain. He breaks apart in private, over and over again, and puts himself back together before anyone can see.

He gives people what they want. And nobody wants him like - broken and battered and weak.

He can’t blame them.

 _He_ doesn’t like himself like this.

So why would anyone else?


	6. Now or Never

_Baby gon' love me now, now, now, now, now, now_   
_Now or never, hey, hey, hey_   
_I want you to hold me down, down, down, down, down, down_   
_Down forever, hey, hey, hey_

_Said you know I wanna keep you around_   
_'Round forever, hey, hey, hey_   
_I want you to love me now, now, now, now, now, now_   
_Now or never_

Julian can’t help but laugh as Logan tugs him by the hand down the hallway. The blond’s grinning even wider than he is as he pushes Julian into his room, pressing him against the wall.

“We promised Derek we wouldn’t miss dinner,” Julian tries to say, but Logan cuts him off with a kiss, gently cupping his face. Julian melts into his hold, pressing as close as he can.

“We’re gonna be late,” he attempts, again, even as he winds arms around Logan’s neck.

“We’ll make it,” Logan promises, “I’ve just wanted to do this all day.”

Julian’s smile widens, which makes the next kiss a little awkward. Logan just laughs lightly at him and tries again.

“You’re too pretty for your own good, you know that?”

Julian flushes at that and shoves playfully against Logan’s chest.

“Shut up.”

Logan just smirks, pressing a soft kiss to Julian’s temple.

“Never.”

  
.

  
Julian’s frowning down at the script on his desk. He looks exhausted, and keeps bringing highlighter-stained fingers up to rub at his eyes. When he yawns for the third time in ten minutes, Logan sets his own work aside.

“Alright,” he says, standing, “Come on, we’re taking a break.”

Julian whines at that, “I’m so close, Lo. I want to have this ready by next week.”

“You won’t have it ready if you’re falling asleep every time you read it,” Logan says patiently, holding out a hand, “Come on. Break time.”

His boyfriend pouts a little, but caps the highlighter and takes his hand.

“If my career suffers because of you, we’re gonna break up,” he says, the threat sounding empty even to him.

Logan kisses his forehead softly, “Of course we are.”

He pulls Julian to the bed, moving a few pillows out of the way before pushing the actor down. Julian curls up, obligingly, and Logan smiles down at him for a moment.

“What, you aren’t gonna join me?”

“Oh, I will,” Logan promises, “I just wanna admire the view for a minute.”

Julian laughs and tugs on Logan’s arm, shifting aside so the other boy has room. Once he’s situated, Logan pulls Julian close, until his head rests on Logan’s chest.

“Half an hour,” Julian says firmly, “and then back to work, okay?”

“Of course, Jules.”

  
.

 

  
“Fuck you, dad.”

Logan throws his phone to the ground angrily, fuming after yet another fight with his father. His hands are twitching, just _itching_ to break something.

“Hey,” says a familiar voice from behind him, and Logan squeezes his eyes shut.

“Get out of here, Jules,” he says, thickly, “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

The blond grips the desk in front of him and tries to take the deep, calming breaths Derek’s always telling him to use.

“I made you something.”

“I said not now, Jules!”

“I _said_ I made you something,” Julian says again, and Logan finally looks up.

The brunet is sitting on the edge of the bed calmly, legs crossed. He looks wholly unbothered by Logan’s rage, most of his focus directed at the…thing…in his hand. Logan stares, anger almost overtaken by confusion. Julian’s holding some kind of collection of pasted-together popsicle sticks and pom-poms, the whole thing wrapped in sparkly pipe cleaners.

“What the fuck is that?” Logan asks, disgusted.

Julian grins and holds it up proudly, “Amanda wanted to have a crafts day. I made this for you.”

“Jules, I love you, but that thing is hideous.”

“I know. So break it.”

Logan blinks once. Twice.

“You said breaking things helps, right?”

“…yeah. Sometimes.”

“So break it,” Julian offers, tossing his _gift_ at Logan.

Logan catches it in both hands, staring at the sparked monstrosity. He feels a smile tugging at his lips.

“…it’s so ugly,” he says again, poking at one of the pom-poms. It falls off.

Julian rolls his eyes, “I did my best, alright? Now throw it against the wall or something.”

“I don’t…really want to,” Logan admits, and sets the thing on the corner of his desk. Julian looks mildly horrified.

“You’re not gonna keep that, are you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? My boyfriend made it for me.”

Julian makes a strangled noise of despair, and Logan laughs, anger forgotten.

 

  
.

 

  
“…I didn’t get it.”

Julian’s staring at the screen of his phone, a look of disappointment and hurt on his face. Derek and Logan exchange a look.

“I really thought I’d get it.”

He turns, eyes leaving his screen to look up at them. Derek opens his mouth to say something and changes his mind, looking over at Logan again.

“Jules…” he starts, but Julian just shakes his head.

“Don’t, okay? Don’t with all the _there’ll be other roles, Jules, you can’t get everything_ , crap. I really, really wanted this one.”

He looks so upset, and frowns at the screen again.

“They went with the _going a different direction_ excuse,” he scoffs, “What bullshit. Everybody knows that’s code for _sorry man you just weren’t good enough_.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Derek stands and pulls the phone out of Julian’s hand, “You’re crazy talented, you know that. You’ve won an Oscar.”

  
Julian just shakes his head, looking remarkably like he’s holding back tears.

“Logan?” Derek says, “Say something, would you?”

Logan, still sitting on the couch across the room, finally speaks up.

“I’m glad you didn’t get it.”

The look on Julian’s face is of utter betrayal, and Derek groans, “Damnit, Lo, you could try being supportive.”

“I am being supportive,” he says, standing and crossing the room in three strides, “I’m just glad he didn’t get it.”

“How can you say that?” Julian demands angrily, moving away when Logan reaches for him, “I _told_ you this was important to me!”

“You did. You also told me,” Logan reaches for his hand, squeezing it even as Julian tries to move away, “that you were scared of getting it. That if you did, you’d have to go to Australia for four months. That you’d have to leave Something Damaged — which you said is the most fun you’ve ever had on a job, by the way — and wouldn’t be able to take that other role you tried for. That you weren’t sure you were ready for something this intense. That you didn’t want to be alone in a different country for that long right now.”

Julian gapes at him, eyes wide.

“So what if it’s a great part?” Logan asks, “So what if it’d win you more awards? It would’ve stressed you out too much, Jules. You would’ve been _miserable_. And I don’t mean to sound selfish, but I would’ve barely seen you.”

Julian sucks in a breath and nods, “Yeah. Yeah you’re right.”

“He is?” Derek’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline at Julian’s admission.

“I am?” Logan asks, equally shocked.

“Yeah,” Julian smiles, just slightly, “You are. Thank you.”

He leans up and presses a soft kiss to Logan’s lips. Then he shakes his head and wipes a tear from his eye, looking at them both with a grin.

“Dinner?”

  
.

 

  
It’s three in the afternoon, and Julian is fast asleep. Logan feels bad for waking him, knows he’s jet-lagged as hell after a long flight from Reykjavik, but he needs to talk to him.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Julian, wake up.”

Julian doesn’t stir, and Logan brings a hand up to shake his shoulder.

“Jules, wake up.”

Julian groans, pulling the white hotel blankets over his face.

“Jules come on,” Logan says, more adamantly, “Five minutes, okay?”

“Ugh, fine,” Julian grumbles, one eye cracking open, “What’s so important you couldn’t let me sleep?”

“I just had lunch with my dad,” Logan blurts out, and Julian freezes for a moment.

“That was today?” He says, sitting up. His eyes are framed by dark circles, his hair mussed, but he does his best to focus, “Is everything okay? He didn’t freak out on you again, did he?”

“I told him I’m switching majors. I told him I don’t want to go into politics.”

Julian’s mouth falls open, “…and?”

“He was…” Logan laughs, a little hysterical, “He said he was fine with it.”

“…we’re talking about John, right? You don’t have some other nice, supportive father I don’t know about it?”

Logan shakes his head, “He said he wasn’t surprised. He said he’s been waiting for me to say something like that. He said…he’s still gonna pay my tuition and everything.”

“Wow,” Julian breathes, “Wow so…so it actually went well.”

Logan’s grinning almost maniacally, “Basically perfect. I think I’m probably dreaming or something.”

Julian smiles at him.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Logan continues, “Music, or whatever. I have no idea. None. But it’s…it’s freeing, you know? That it’s my choice now.”

“You have time,” Julian takes his hand, “Take those electives you were talking about, you know? Find something you do actually like.”

“I like you.”

Julian laughs, “Pretty sure you can’t major in me, Wright.”

“Maybe not,” Logan kicks off his shoes and slides into bed beside him, wrapping an arm around Julian’s waist, “But I can still be with you.”

He leans in for a kiss, which Julian returns for just a moment before breaking off into a yawn.

“I’m really tired,” he admits, remorseful, but Logan just smiles.

“We can just sleep,” he says, “I just wanna be here, right now. With you.”

 

  
.

 

  
“You sure about this?” Julian asks, for the fourth time.

Logan’s frowning at his blurry reflection in the window, trying to tame the lock of hair that’s decided to spring from its gel.

“I’m a little concerned about the number of times you’ve asked me that question,” is his response as he pushes his hair back into place.

“I know you’re not a huge fan of events like this…”

“Is this really about me?” Logan asks, turning to his boyfriend, “Or is this about you being scared to finally come out?”

Julian inhales, but doesn’t correct him.

“If you’re not ready…”

“We’ve been together for four years,” Julian says, “Honestly it’s a miracle nobody’s figured out before this.”

“They don’t have to,” Logan says patiently, “If you’re not ready we can call this off.”

“We’re _here_ , Logan,” Julian gestures out the window, at the crowd gathered in front of the theater. Their limo is slowly creeping forward, only a few cars away from being at the start of the red carpet.

Logan shrugs, “I can be your bodyguard, or something. I can look aloof and threatening.”

Julian cracks a smile, “Isn’t that kind of your whole schtick, anyway?”

“I’m serious,” Logan says, sobering a little, “We don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Julian admits, “I’m just…I’m scared.”

“Of what people are going to say?”

Julian nods, and Logan presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“What if it ruins everything?” He says, a little desperate, “What if they hate me or they hate you or they like us too much and suddenly nothing’s private anymore? What if it changes everything and our lives are totally different? What if—“

Logan presses a finger against Julian’s lips, cutting him off.

“It won’t ruin us,” he says, “We won’t let it. No matter what happens, we can handle it.”

He leans in, kissing his boyfriend softly.

“You wanna know what they’re going to say? They’re going to say, ‘damn, that Julian Larson landed himself a babe.’”

Julian laughs and ducks his head a little.

“Sorry,” he says, “I…momentary freak out. You’re right.”

“‘course I am,” Logan says, as their limo pulls to the front of the line, “Now what do you say? Julian Larson, are you ready to show the world who you are?”

Julian smiles, and takes his hand, “only if you’re with me.”


	7. Sorry

_I've missed your calls for months it seems_   
_Don't realize how mean I can be_   
_'Cause I can sometimes treat the people_   
_That I love like jewelry_   
_'Cause I can change my mind each day_   
_I didn't mean to try you on_   
_But I still know your birthday_   
_And your mother's favorite song_

_So I'm sorry to my unknown lover_   
_Sorry that I can't believe that anybody ever really_   
_Starts to fall in love with me_   
_Sorry to my unknown lover_   
_Sorry I could be so blind_   
_Didn't mean to leave you_   
_And all of the things that we had behind_

_I run away when things are good_   
_And never really understood_   
_The way you laid your eyes on me_   
_In ways that no one ever could_   
_And so it seems I broke your heart_   
_My ignorance has struck again_   
_I failed to see it from the start_   
_And tore you open 'til the end_

His best friend is in love with him.

His best friend is _in love with him_ , and he’d never noticed.

Logan Wright has done a lot of shitty things in his life, but he’s never felt guilt as strongly as he does now.

Julian Larson is in love with him, has been for _three years_ , and all he’s ever done is hurt him, over and over again, because he was too blind to see it.

Logan knows how it feels, to want someone who doesn’t want you back. He knows how badly it hurts. But he can’t even fathom this — loving someone for three years in silence, hearing them talk about other boys _to your face_ , and never saying a word. He can’t imagine how Julian kept up his smile every time he gave dating advice, each time Logan - _fuck_ \- asked him to sing with him, to practice for someone else.

“You can’t beat yourself up too badly, Logan,” Derek tells him, “He intentionally hid it from you. He didn’t want you to notice.”

“You did,” Logan says simply, “You noticed. How come I never did?”

Derek doesn’t respond, and Logan keeps talking.

“I’m supposed to be his friend, and I had no idea he was even upset, Derek. I had no clue anything was wrong. For three goddamn years. What kind of friend doesn’t _notice_?”

He feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but doesn’t bother wiping them away. He cries a lot, these days. It seems pointless to stave off the tears now.

He never cries in front of Julian, though. Julian, who has more of a right to cry than anybody, but who’s always been so, so strong…he doesn’t deserve to wake up to Logan Wright sobbing by his bed. He can be the strong one, this time. For him.

So he spends as much time as he can at the hospital. He arranges the dozens of floral arrangements that get sent Julian’s way, throwing out the roses and moving Julian’s favorites — bright ones, sunflowers and daffodils — closer to the bed. He sits by his bedside, reading fan letters out loud, keeping up small talk about the weather and the school. He isn’t sure Julian can hear him, but it’s important that he knows he isn’t alone.

When Dolce takes him away, when he can’t visit Julian every day anymore, he feels restless.

He takes to keeping Julian’s room clean for him, ignores the concerned look Derek always gives him, pretends that they’re both not thinking that Julian might not ever come back. He organizes the books Julian’s left scattered around the floor, throws away empty coffee cups. Julian has a picture of the three of them, on his nightstand, and Logan stares at it for a prolonged period of time, a funny feeling in his chest, before he carefully dusts it off and re-centers it.

He and Derek both try calling, more than once. They have no idea how he’s doing, if he’s awake or talking or not, but they know Dolce had picked his phone up from the hospital. They hope someone will answer it for them, just once.

 _Please be okay, Julian_ , he texts.

_I really hope you’re awake._

_You don’t have to talk to me if you want._

_I just really need to know if you’re okay._

_Please, Julian._

_I miss you._

_I need you._

It’s overkill, he knows, sending so many messages to a number that never answers. But he’s ignored Julian for so long, and he won’t anymore. He’d rather annoy him with clinginess, have Julian wake up to dozens of messages and missed calls instead of nothing. He needs him to understand how much he means to him, how important he is.

“I don’t understand,” Logan says one day, “He’s Julian Larson.”

Derek looks up, curiously, “Yes? And?”

“He could have anyone he wants. Anyone. Why on earth would he pick me?”

Derek considers his words carefully, hesitant to say anything that’ll increase Logan’s guilt.

“I don’t think it was a choice,” he says, “I think he tried to ignore it himself, for a while. But you can’t just…you can’t pick who you fall in love with, y’know?”

“But I hurt him. I’ve been _awful_ to him and he…I just don’t understand.”

“I think,” Derek says, slowly, “I think he’s the only one who’d be able to explain it. But the point isn’t _why_ he loves you, the point is that he _does_.”

“He’s too good for me.”

Derek just looks at him, sadly.

It’s the first time he’s thought it, but he knows it’s true. Julian may be arrogant and selfish, dramatic and reckless, but he is _good_. He’s always been there for the people who need him. He’s the hardest working person Logan’s ever met, more focused than even Derek. He’s astoundingly talented, driven, beautiful.

He doesn’t deserve Logan.

Doesn’t deserve to be with someone who hurts him, who can’t keep his anger in check, who doesn’t _notice_.

He deserves to be loved, cherished, made to feel special.

Has Logan ever made him feel that way?

He’s pretty sure the answer to that is no. He can’t remember a time he’s told Julian how important he is. He’d always just blindly assumed he knew, assumed he and Derek both knew exactly how much he needed them in his life. But he’s never said it.

“Hey, you know you’re my best friend, right?”

Derek pauses with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth, looking curiously at Logan.

“I’ve never had best friends before,” Logan continues, “I love you, you know that?”

Derek blinks, and sets his fork down, “Are we practicing for what you’re going to say to Julian?”

“I need you to know, too,” Logan tells him, “I might have already lost him, I can’t lose you too. You guys are too important to me. I should’ve told you years ago. You guys are my family.”

The tears are pooling in his eyes again, and Derek reaches across the table to squeeze his hand.

“You haven’t lost him,” he says, patiently, “I think he just needs time.”

Logan nods, but he isn’t sure he agrees.

He wouldn’t blame Julian for never speaking to him again. It’s what he deserves, after all this.

He lays in bed for hours that night, unable to sleep. He winds up flipping through old pictures on his phone, candids of Derek and Julian, selfies where the three of them had tried to squeeze into one frame, squished together tightly but still grinning wildly. He finds one he’d taken of Julian last summer, striking a ridiculous pose and grinning straight at the camera. He smiles at it for a moment, and then opens a new text before he can second-guess himself.

_I’m not sure if you’re even reading your messages. You’re probably sick of hearing from me if you are. I just need you to know that me and Derek miss you a lot and we really hope you’re okay. Please, please let one of us know you’re okay. I don’t want to lose you._

He presses send and sets his phone down, trying once more to get comfortable enough to sleep. Just as he’s begun to drift off, he feels it vibrate softly beside him, and practically launches himself across the bed to grab for it.

_Julian Larson - 1 new message_

He braces himself for disappointment, for a message typed by Dolce or Carmen or one of Julian’s Hollywood friends. For the worst - a message from Julian himself, telling him to fuck off. He opens it.

 _I’m okay_ , it reads, simply. Logan stares at those two words, feeling half-hopeful and half-disappointed, wanting more but knowing this is all he’s asked for.

His phone buzzes again.

 _I miss you guys, too_ , the next message says, _I’ll call soon_.

Logan stares until his screen times out and goes black, a bubble of hope in his chest.

Everything’s not suddenly okay again, but it can be. He hasn’t lost Julian forever.

He sleeps soundly that night, for the first time since all this has happened.

Julian hasn’t given up on him.


	8. Good Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest one to write, for some reason.

_They told me once, "there's a place where love conquers all"_  
_A city with the streets full of milk and honey_  
_I haven't found it yet, but I'm still searching_  
_All I know is a hopeless place that flows with the blood of my kin_  
_Perhaps hopeless isn't a place_  
_Nothing but a state of mind_  
_They told me once, "don't trust the moon, she's always changing"_  
_The shores bend and break for her_  
_And she begs to be loved_  
_But nothing here is as it seems_

 _Sun is coming up oh, why, oh, why, oh, why_  
_Sun is coming up oh, why, oh, why, oh, why_  
_Sun is coming up oh, why, oh, why, oh, why_  
_Sun is coming up oh, why, oh, why, oh, why_  
_Sun is coming up oh, why, oh, why, oh, why_  
_Sun is coming up oh, why, oh, why, oh, why_  
_Sun is coming up oh, why, oh, why, oh, why_

  
Logan’s head is swimming.

It was bad enough, before. The fuzziness behind his eyes blurring reality, making his mind swirl with things he can’t quite understand. He’s doing his best, to stay focused, to try to understand what’s going on.

He tries to push out the other stuff — Julian and Derek’s odd actions, Julian’s inexplicable anger, the strange echoing of a voice in his ears.

_Sing me to sleep…_

None of that is important, right now. What is important is the Art Hall; that Kurt and Julian are in danger, and he needs to help.

His eyes immediately flit over to Julian when he and Blaine burst into the room, and he’s never seen the actor more horrified. There’s another student - Adam, Logan thinks - standing beside him, a knife held in his hand. He screams something, but Logan’s more focused at the blood staining Julian’s skin.

“What are you _doing_ in here?” Julian screams at him, “You’re not supposed to be here!”

He isn’t supposed to be here.

Why isn’t he supposed to be here?

Why is Julian focused on him, when there’s a lunatic with a knife aimed at his jugular?

Adam’s yelling at him, now. Blaming _Logan_ for all this.

Logan’s done a lot wrong, he knows, but he hasn’t done - would never do - _this_.

“…doesn’t he hurt everyone too?” Adam says, to Julian, almost mockingly, “But you still—you still—“

He still what?

All the other stuff -- Julian and Derek keeping secrets, Julian's anger, the song...

_Sing me to sleep..._

Logan’s grip on his axe lessens a little.

Julian still _what_?

Adam snarls, presses the knife against Julian’s skin, “Tell him.”

Tell him…?

Tell who _what_?

Julian goes white. His hands tremble.

_Tell who what?_

“Tell him why you stayed in this school! Tell him why you were so desperate to keep him out of this! Tell him why I decided to drug him! Tell him why I hate him!”

All the other stuff - Derek's frustration, Julian fading away, the voice...

_Sing me to sleep..._

Logan’s breath is coming in sharp gasps now, his head swimming again. He can’t take his eyes off the silver metal biting into Julian’s cheek, the terror in Julian’s eyes. He murmurs his friends name, unthinking.

_Tell me what, Julian…?_

Adam screams again, cutting into Julian’s neck.

They’re all screaming now, Logan and Kurt and Adam and Julian. Logan’s frozen in place, unable to move, even as his mind is screaming at him to save Julian.

“Tell him or I’ll kill him, Julian—I will!”

 _Let him,_ Logan thinks, idly, _Let him kill me so this can be over._

But Julian just sobs, turning to Logan with a look of utter despair.

 _No,_ he thinks _, please Julian, don’t. Whatever he wants you to say, just—_

“…I’m in love with you.”

_All the other stuff - the voice, the goodbye..._

_Sing me to sleep..._

Logan’s whole word comes crashing down around him.

He wants Julian to take it back, to laugh and claim this was all an elaborate prank.

Wants to wake up in bed, this whole disaster just a drug-induced dream.

But Julian still has a knife pressed to his throat, and he’s still talking, and suddenly it all makes sense.

All the other stuff, the things Logan had tried to ignore...

They were all this.

  
“…since we were freshmen…” Logan hears, through the haze, “…kept leaving…every time you would fall for someone else.”

It isn’t true. It can’t be true.

Julian couldn’t love him.

“…I gave up…I just gave up…completely look through me…it was just too hard for me to watch…”

Logan squeezes his eyes shut, tries to block out the words.

“Shut up,” he sobs, but Julian’s voice continues, cutting through the the noise.

“…I could protect you…it would’ve killed me to tell you…”

He’s begging Julian to stop, he knows, screaming at him to stop through his tears. Julian’s crying too, shaking and begging him to leave.

Adam, though, is laughing.

The secrets, the screaming, the goodbye...

_Sing me to sleep..._

There’s a shout from beside him, and Logan sees Blaine throw himself at the other boy, wrestling the knife from his hands. Julian moves, too, and somehow Logan’s arms are swinging the axe, catching just between Adam’s shoulder blades…

…Adam falls to the ground, unconscious.

 _It’s over_ , Logan thinks, _we’re okay._

His eyes find Julian’s, who’s staring up at him tearfully, still white and shaking, still crying.

He takes a half-step towards him…

…and the building shakes violently, throwing them all off their feet.

 _I’m sorry, Julian_ , he thinks, as he hits the ground, _I didn’t know…_


	9. Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...doesn't quite follow this song, at all?

_Breakfast is cold, as cold as our bed_   
_I'm watching you choke down the words that you said_   
_I watch you devour, mistake me for bread_   
_Well boy, is you fed? Or are you misled?_   
_I gave you the messiest head_   
_You give me the messiest head_   
_Oh, you're turnin' red_   
_'Cause I'm tryna' give the impression that I get the message you wish I was dead_

_See you 'bouta break a sweat_   
_I won't let us finish yet_   
_Please don't take this as a threat_   
_All I'm sayin' is if you don't love me no more then lie_

Julian knows Logan’s going to leave him, eventually.

He’s lucky to have this at all, he knows. Lucky that Logan, for the time being, wants him, more than anybody else. Knows it with every smile Logan sends his way, every time his fingers brush against Julian’s skin.

He isn’t a good boyfriend.

He _knows_ he’s not.

He’s a workaholic, he’s dramatic and bad at communication. He can see how it frustrates Logan, every time he senses something wrong and Julian won’t talk about it. He knows how irritated Logan gets every time he cancels a date, every time he’s late for a dinner.

He’s _trying_ , he really is.

He tries to schedule things around work, tries to get out in time so Logan’s not stuck waiting alone at a restaurant again.

But suddenly it’s 6:47, and he’s halfway across town from the cafe they have a 7:00 reservation for. He calls Logan, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey,” he breathes, frantic, “Hey I’m running late but I’m on my way I promise — goddamnit you asshole you’re in the fast lane _drive like it_ — and I’m so, so sorry. I’ll be there, I swear. I…I’m sorry. Again. As usual. Fuck.”

He bites his lip and presses down on the gas, watching as his speedometer clicks to 65, 70, 75 miles an hour. He doesn’t even see the sign for his exit yet.

He’s jittery, left foot tapping as he weaves in and out of traffic. He nearly has a heart attack when he sees red and blue flashing lights behind him, and half-debates speeding off before the cop pulls into the lane beside him, after someone else. He continues to speed down the highway, heaving a sigh of relief when he pulls into an empty lane of traffic…

…and is almost immediately met with a row of brake lights.

Traffic is backed up as far as he can see, and he still has seven exits to get to the restaurant.

“Fuck!” He bellows, slamming a hand on his dashboard. He’s completely stopped, now, surrounded on all sides by commuters just as annoyed as he is.

He reaches for his phone again.

Logan’s still not answering.

By the time traffic clears up, he’s so horrendously late he doesn’t expect Logan to be there. But there’s his car, parked outside, and Julian sprints into the restaurant, ignoring the startled hostess and making his way to the familiar blond head in the back.

“You’re late,” Logan says when he sits down, looking annoyed, “Over an hour late.”

“I know,” Julian breathes, “I know I tried to call I’m _so_ sorry…”

“I already ate,” Logan tells him, “Waitress brought me pity food, I’m pretty sure.”

Julian feels awful.

“Okay,” he says, “You um…you wanna just go home, then?”

Logan stands, and throws a crumpled bill on the table.

“You have to drive,” he states, simply, “That was my third whiskey. So.”

He turns to walk out, and Julian trots after him, still stuttering apologies.

He knows Logan’s justified in his anger, knows he’s forgiven Julian way too many times for this kind of thing. Knows he couldn’t get away with not being good enough forever.

Logan’s silent as he climbs into Julian’s Mercedes, tossing a script into the backseat. He fiddles with the radio, turning the volume up just loud enough that conversation would be awkward.

“…I tried to call,” Julian attempts, but Logan cuts him off.

“You always call,” he says shortly, “And I always sit there like an idiot, alone in a restaurant like a loser who can’t get his boyfriend to care enough to show up.”

It stings, and Julian knows he deserves it.

“I care,” he says, thickly, “You _know_ I care.”

“Of course I fucking know you care,” Logan says, annoyed, “But I can’t — I can’t keep sitting in restaurants alone, Julian.”

Julian doesn’t know what to say to that.

The rest of the drive is silent, and Logan’s out of the car the moment Julian pulls into their garage. Julian has to take a moment before following, taking a couple steadying breaths.

Logan’s rifling through the fridge when he walks in, and he pulls out a take-out box and slides it across the counter.

“Here,” he says, when Julian catches it, “You’re probably hungry.”

Julian stares down at the box, “…You knew I wouldn’t make it.”

“You usually don’t.”

“…that isn’t fair.”

Logan sighs, and runs a hand through his hair, “That one was mean. You’re right. But I’m—I’m allowed to be upset about this, Jules. You _always_ do this. We make all these plans and then you never show!”

“I know,” Julian says, “I know and I’m working on it.”

“Are you?” Logan explodes, “You keep saying you’re fucking working on it but nothing ever changes, Julian! You were late to our first anniversary. You _missed_ our second. What’s the best case scenario, here? You’re late to our engagement? You miss our wedding?”

“I…”

“I know your work is important, Jules. But goddamnit, so am I. So are we.”

“I know,” he says, trembling, “You’re more important than anything.”

“Then fucking _show it_!”

Julian loses his composure, at that. He tries to cover his mouth with a hand, to hold back the sob that bursts from his lips. He’s ugly crying, he knows. Big, crocodile tears stream down his face and his whole body shakes.

Logan sighs, uncrosses his arms, and crosses the room, pulling Julian tight against his chest.

“Don’t…don’t cry,” he says, one hand coming up to rub at Julian’s shoulder blades, “it’s gonna be fine. We’re always fine.”

“You’re gonna leave me,” Julian murmurs, voice half-muted against Logan’s chest, “You’re gonna leave me and it’s all my fault.”

Logan freezes at that, and pushes Julian away so he can look into his eyes, “Jules…you don’t actually think that, do you?”

“You are,” Julian sobs, unable to stop now, the stress and anxiety all catching up at once, “You’re gonna leave me because I’m awful at this, I’m so bad at being someone’s boyfriend.”

“Hey. Hey don’t,” Logan wipes his tears away with a thumb, “You’re not bad at this. You’re bad at _some_ of this.”

Julian opens his mouth, but Logan interrupts again.

“We’re both bad at some of this,” he continues, “But we’re learning, okay? Remember at the beginning, when I could never remember how you drank your coffee? Or when you didn’t realize how much you flirt with strangers? Or how I was _really bad_ at letting you explain your side when we fought?”

He waits, and Julian nods, sniffling.

“This is another one of those problems, it’s just a little bit harder to fix.”

“I want to,” Julian says, choked up, “I _want_ to fix this.”

“So we will,” Logan says simply, kissing Julian’s forehead, “We’ll talk about it later, when we’re not both so upset, and we’ll figure out how to fix it, okay?”

“Okay,” Julian agrees, wiping his face.

Logan smiles at him, and kisses him chastely.

“I’m still kind of pissy, so I’m going to go take a shower and change out of this suit, okay? Eat something, please?”

Julian nods again, and lets Logan step away. He watches, still somewhat miserable, as his boyfriend leaves the kitchen and walks upstairs.

They’ll fix this, he knows.

But he’ll fuck something up again.

He’s bound to.

Logan will leave him, eventually.

He just knows it.

He's not good enough.

And no matter how much Logan pretends he's okay with this, no matter how many times Logan forgives him, it can't last forever.


	10. Walls Could Talk

_Been about three days and I'm comin' back_   
_I'm about four minutes from a heart attack_   
_And I think you make me a maniac_   
_But you don't know_   
_Two years and we in between_   
_But we both been here since we seventeen_   
_Here we go, fist fight in a limousine_   
_But they don't know_

_And we both hope there's something_   
_But we bo-both keep fronting_   
_And it's a closed discussion_   
_And I'm thinking "Damn, if these walls could talk”_   
  


They’re explosive, together, most of the time. Logan’s angry and Julian’s prone to the dramatics, and together they’re like a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest spark.

They goad each other on, their barbs meant to cut as deeply as they can, their insults targeted at exactly what’ll make the other person hurt. It’s mean, and cruel, and twisted, but somehow it works.

  
“No wonder I never wanted you,” Logan sneers, even as he’s pushing Julian up against a wall and burying his face in the shorter boy’s neck, “You’re fucking infuriating.”

“Like you’re so special,” Julian gasps, writhing when Logan bites at tender skin, “At least people _like_ me.”

“I’m sure it’s your personality they like, Princess, not the fact that you spread your legs for anything with a pulse.”

“Fuck you,” Julian’s retort turns into a high-pitched whine, and he keens as one of Logan’s hands sweeps down to kneed at his ass.

“You sure that’s what you want?” Logan smirks, licking at the skin he’s just bitten.

Julian moans and wraps a leg around Logan’s waist, rubbing his denim-clad cop against Logan’s hip.

“Fuck _me_ ,” he corrects himself, and Logan heaves him up, twisting around until they both collapse on the bed.

“That’s more like it.”

 

.

 

They’re supposed to be getting ready for the Grammys, but Logan hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of Julian after seeing him in his tux. Julian had tried to stop him, at first, insisted that they had to be on time for this. But Logan's hands feel so good against his skin, and he always knows exactly what Julian needs.

“Fuck, Logan we have to go. I could win a _Grammy_ ,” Julian trails off when Logan cups him, eyes fluttering shut.

“You have enough awards,” Logan says as he slides Julian’s pants down his legs, “Who the fuck cares about one more?”

“I care,” Julian argues, hands pushing weakly at Logan’s shoulders even as the blond drops to his knees.

“You care about some hunk of metal more than getting your dick sucked?” Logan raises an eyebrow up at his boyfriend.

“I’m trying for an _EGOT_ , Logan, you know that,” Julian’s frowning, but he doesn’t move away, “You _know_ how important that song was for me. How much this award means to me. I worked on it for months and I—oh. Oh.”

Logan’s mouth is warm, and wet, and feels so, so good. Julian trails off, letting his head fall back against the wall. He can feel Logan’s smirk, the smugness radiating off his body.

He really can’t be bothered enough to care, though.

 

.

 

Julian winces as his back hits the wall, bracing himself even as Logan’s fist connects with the wall just inches from his head.

“Is this how it’s gonna be, Jules?” He yells, face red, “You’re just gonna flirt with any guy who looks at you from now on? The second I look away, you’re gonna find someone else?”

“He called me pretty,” Julian says, mocking, “I couldn’t help myself.”

He knows he shouldn’t egg Logan on, knows he should deny it instead of milking this, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

“Damnit, Julian!” Logan explodes, and Julian smirks, “You’re such a piece of shit.”

He whirls away, but Julian follows, still taunting.

“ _You_ never call me pretty, you know. But other people do. Other people tell me all sorts of things. How much they want me…”

Logan twists back his way, catches one of Julian’s wrists in a viselike grip and pushes him backwards until he collides with the wall again.

“I don’t _have_ to tell you things. I don’t _have_ to suck up to you and kiss your ass like all those other boys do. I don’t have to do _anything_. You wanna know why?”

He jerks Julian forward, spins him around so his face is pressed against the wall, his back flush against Logan’s chest. Julian’s breathless, so flushed with arousal he doesn’t feel the pain.

“It’s because you’re _mine_ ,” Logan hisses in his ear, pausing just long enough to nip at his pulse, “You’re fucking mine and you keep _forgetting_ it.”

Julian leans into him, tilts his head back to give Logan better access to his neck.

“Well,” he breathes, “Maybe you need to show me again.”

 

.

 

“Are you just gonna ignore me?”

Logan doesn’t move from his position on the sofa, his eyes still focused down on his cell phone.

“You’re fucking kidding me right now, right?”

His fingers are still tapping on screen, and Julian yanks it out of his hands, tossing it aside. That finally makes Logan look up, annoyed.

“What do you want, Julian?”

“What do I _want_?” Julian crosses his arms over his chest, scowling, “I’ve been home for an hour, you realize that? A fucking hour and you haven’t said a goddamn word to me.”

Logan rolls his eyes and stands, pushing past Julian to retrieve his phone from the floor.

“Kinda seemed like you just wanted to hear the sound of your own voice, as usual,” he says, dusting off the screen, “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Look, I had a bad day, alright?” Logan shouts, which just serves to make Julian angrier.

“So you’re gonna take that out on _me_? Other people pissed you off so you’re gonna ignore me for the rest of the night because that’ll make you feel better, right? How’s that working out for you?”

He shoulder checks Logan as he starts to storm out of the room, but Logan’s arm darts out, grabbing him before he can go too far.

“You’re right,” he says, a little softer, “It won’t make me feel better. But I can think of something else that might.”

Julian turns when a hand squeezes his ass, glaring.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re gonna do _that_ to me and then expect me to crawl into bed with you like everything’s okay?”

“Come on, Jules,” Logan says, lips curling into a smirk, “When have you ever said no to me?”

His hand kneads at firm skin, and Julian rolls his eyes.

“Fine. But you’re still an asshole.”

“Maybe. But I’m _your_ asshole.”

 

.

 

Julian’s resting half on Logan’s chest, one of his boyfriends' arms curled possessively around his waist. There’s a hand carding through his hair, and the steady rise and fall of Logan’s chest has nearly put him to sleep when Logan speaks.

“Do you think it’s fucked up?”

“Do I think what’s fucked up?” Julian asks without raising his head.

“This. That we basically solve every fight by fucking.”

Julian just hums, presses his lips to Logan’s chest for a soft kiss.

“I’m serious, Julian.”

The brunet sighs and tilts his chin up, peering up at Logan, who looks genuinely concerned.

“Do you want to break up with me?” Julian asks, bluntly, and Logan looks almost offended.

“Of course I don’t,” he says, “I love you, you know that.”

“Then we’re fine,” Julian says simply, “So what if it’s not normal? Do you really think either of _us_ could ever be normal?”

Logan doesn’t quite look placated, so Julian rises up, bracing himself on his forearms over Logan’s body.

“Maybe it’s a little fucked up,” he admits, “But I’m fucked up. You’re fucked up. We can just be fucked up together.”

“Just…just promise me something?”

Julian nods.

“If you’re ever like…actually mad at me, you’ll tell me, right? Like if there’s actually something I’m doing wrong you’ll let me know so we can fix it.”

“Promise,” Julian smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to Logan’s lips, “You make me really happy, you know. Even when we’re fighting or angry fucking or whatever.”

Logan finally smiles back, eyes softening.

“You make me really happy, too.”

He pulls Julian back down to his chest and resumes the hair petting. Julian nuzzles closer, making a soft, pleased noise. Logan starts to hum, softly, and Julian lets his eyes drift shut, the soft sound of his boyfriend’s voice lulling him to sleep.


	11. Bad at Love

_I know that you're afraid_   
_I'm gonna walk away_   
_Each time the feeling fades_   
_Each time the feeling fades_   
_I know that you're afraid_   
_I'm gonna walk away_   
_Each time the feeling fades_

_You know I'm bad at love_   
_But you can't blame me for tryin'_   
_You know I'd be lyin' sayin'_   
_You were the one_   
_That could finally fix me_   
_Lookin' at my history_   
_I'm bad at love_   
_Oh, you know, you know, you know_   
_I'm bad at love_   
_Oh, oh_

He can see the insecurity in Julian’s eyes, sometimes, before it’s covered up with a bright smile and a snarky comment. He sees the way Julian watches him when an attractive man walks by, wondering if _this_ will be the one that grabs his attention. It hurts a little, that his boyfriend is so insecure in their relationship that he’s constantly checking to make sure Logan hasn’t wavered.

It isn’t that Julian doesn’t trust him, he knows. It’s that Julian has a hard time believing Logan actually wants _him_ , after all the other boys. He knows he still hasn’t managed to convince Julian this isn’t out of pity, that he genuinely, truly wants to be with him.

He isn’t sure Julian will ever get past this fear, to be perfectly honest; for the rest of their relationship, there’ll always be an undercurrent of fear — that Logan will lose interest in their relationship, and Julian will be left alone.

Logan will never admit it out loud, but he’s scared of it, too.

He hasn’t had the best luck with relationships.

He isn’t sure quite what it is that’s wrong with him, why he loses interest in people as quickly and abruptly as he does. He’d been happy with Blaine for a time, he remembers, until he’d just woken up one day and thought, _I don’t want this anymore_. It had happened with Joshua, too, the sudden change of heart, the affection morphing into boredom and dislike.

His feelings for Kurt - despite how strong they felt at the time - had left him so quickly he can’t even pinpoint when, exactly, they changed.

He wants Julian to be different. _Needs_ Julian to be different. He’s happy, with Julian. He’d been happy with Julian even before Julian was _his_.

He wakes up every morning, takes a deep breath, and thinks, _please, let me still love him today_ , before opening his eyes. Every day, he sees Julian sleeping peacefully beside him, smiles to himself when he still feels that familiar bubble of love in his chest. He needs that feeling to stay.

He isn’t sure what he’d do if it didn’t.

If he woke up one morning, with Julian beside him, and didn’t want him anymore.

Would he tell him?

Could he tell him?

Julian was important to him before they started dating, and Logan knows he’d destroy any hope of remaining his friend if he broke his heart again. Would he hide it? Would he just pretend, forever, that he still wanted this?

It’s a terrifying thought, that Logan might wake up one morning and stop loving Julian. That maybe _Julian_ might wake up one morning and realize he wanted something else all along. That at any point, they’ll stop being _them_.

But he can’t keep that from happening, he knows. So for now, he’ll do everything he can to make Julian happy. He’ll kiss him in the rain, hold him when he cries. He’ll tell him he loves him, every day, until he believes it. He’ll hold his hand during the day and make love to him at night. He’ll hold him, after, stroking his hair and singing softly until Julian falls into a deep, peaceful sleep.

And when he does, when Logan has his beautiful, brilliant boyfriend held in his arms, he’ll send desperate prayers to whatever god is listening.

_Please, please don’t let me stop loving him._

_Don't let me_ ever _stop loving him._


	12. Strangers

_I miss the mornings with you laying in my bed_   
_I miss the memories replaying in my head_   
_I miss the thought of a forever, you and me_   
_But all you're missing is my body, oh_

_Said we're not lovers_   
_'Cause we're just strangers_   
_With the same damn hunger_   
_To be touched, to be loved, to feel anything at all_

Their break up made sense, really.

Julian worked all the time, Logan spent most of his time trying to make it through Yale, and the distance between them was just too much. They’d talked about it, both agreed that it was for the best. Julian wanted to build up his career, and Logan wanted to build the framework for his own. They’d remain friends, they decided.

So how did they keep winding up here?

Logan’s pressing open-mouthed kisses to Julian’s throat, smirking each time the actor whimpers. Julian’s starting to get handsy, fingers slipping beneath the waist of Logan’s jeans.

“This is a bad idea,” he pants, even as he pulls Logan closer.

“We’re friends,” Logan murmurs, pushing Julian backwards until he’s pressed against the wall, “We’re friends and we’re hot and we’re horny. We’re just taking care of each other.”

Julian hitches a leg around Logan’s hip, rolls his hips and grins when Logan groans.

“You still think I’m hot?”

Logan pulls back just long enough to shoot Julian a look, and then he’s hoisting him up, forcing both of Julian’s legs around his waist. Julian’s head tilts back heavily, and he gasps.

“This is the last time,” he says firmly, even as Logan’s fingers are tugging at the buttons of his shirt, “We can’t do this again.”

 

.

 

 

“Fuck, Jules,” Logan moans, gripping the edge of his chair so tightly he feels the wood crack, “Holy _hell_ you’re gonna kill me.”

Julian just smirks a little, and Logan can almost feel his laugh.

“Oh god I forgot how _good_ you are at this,” Logan’s panting, now. One of his hands makes an aborted move to tangle in Julian’s hair before settling instead on his own thigh. He digs his nails into the skin, trying to force himself to last a little longer.

Julian’s eyes are on him, dark gaze focused up on Logan, and Logan can’t bring himself to look away.

“Jules,” he gasps, desperately, “Jules I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

Julian does _something_ with his tongue, then, just as he brings a hand up to squeeze at Logan’s leg. Logan’s vision whites out, and he comes hard, jerking upwards as Julian swallows him down.

He finally pulls back, sliding from between Logan’s thighs and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Logan struggles to steady himself, his mind a haze of pleasure.

“Thought you said we wouldn’t do that again,” he manages, stupidly.

Julian just grins at him, leans up to press a soft kiss to Logan’s lips.

“That was different. Happy birthday, Logan.”

 

.

 

Julian’s slightly tipsy by the time Logan knocks on his door, his eyes red and bleary.

“What are you doing here?” He demands, glaring.

“I heard you didn’t get it,” Logan says, giving Julian an assessing once-over. He’s still wearing what he changed into after the ceremony, now clad in what Logan privately deemed his “sad pants” - a pair of plush, gray sweatpants Julian refused to wear in public, and an old Dalton sweatshirt (which, Logan noted with an odd twinge of affection, had definitely originally belonged to him). He has a half-empty bottle of shiraz in his hand, and his hair is mussed.

“So you’re here to what? Gloat? Tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself? Tell me I wasn’t good enough to win anyway?”

“What the hell, Jules, why do you always get so mean when you’re upset?” Logan sidesteps the brunet, shutting the door firmly behind him, “I’m here to make sure you’re okay. Because you tend to get all self destructive and crazy when you don’t get what you want.”

“I’m not _crazy_ ,” Julian says adamantly, slamming the bottle down on a table. Logan sighs.

“I don’t mean _crazy_ ,” he says, patiently, “You’re just…really intense when it comes to acting, you know? And I know that when you miss out on things sometimes you get on this spiral of thinking you’re not good enough. So I’m here to make sure you don’t do that.”

Julian looks back at him, looking slightly vulnerable, “I don’t like losing. At all. And my brain just like…” he waves a hand in the air, “It just makes me think not good things, sometimes.”

“I know,” Logan steps forward, hands kneading at Julian’s shoulders, “So tell me how to help.”

Julian bites his lower lip, “You could distract me.”

Logan hesitates for just a moment, but then Julian’s hands are sliding up his chest and he nods, firmly.

“Okay. But this is the last time.”

 

.

 

“This is _ridiculous_ , you know that, right?”

Julian and Logan both jerk up, hands grasping at the blankets and yanking them to cover their naked bodies.

Derek’s glaring at them from the doorway, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“Derek, what the _fuck_?” Logan exclaims, unconsciously shifting to block Julian from view, “Do you know how to knock?”

“Didn’t think I’d have to,” Derek says, “Seeing as I’m currently staying with my two single friends who keep insisting they’re no longer together and therefore there shouldn’t be anything I’m at risk of walking in on.”

“We’re not together,” Julian argues, “We just…it’s like a friends-with-benefits type thing. Kinda.”

Logan nods in agreement, but Derek just rolls his eyes.

“Yeah? Is that why neither of you have had a relationship since you broke up?”

“I’ve dated!” Julian insists, “And Logan had that guy…Blake?”

“Brian,” Logan corrects, “And yeah, Julian’s always bringing dates to those awards shows.”

“Right,” Derek says, an eyebrow raised, “But who have you guys spent all major holidays with? Birthdays? Who does Julian always call after all those shows? Who always picks up, even when he’s supposed to be on a date with Brian? Why do you idiots still celebrate your anniversary?”

Logan looks over to Julian, but the other boy is avoiding eye contact, awkwardly staring down at his own hands.

“Look, I know the long distance thing was hard for you guys. But you can’t keep doing this to yourselves. Either get back together or break it off for good, but this thing, whatever it is, isn’t healthy. You know it’s not.”

He gives them each one more stern look and turns, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“Well,” Logan breathes, “Um.”

“He’s right,” Julian blurts, “I can’t…I don’t like this. I hate hearing about you dating other people.”

“You do?”

Julian nods, still not quite looking at him, “I know I keep saying it’s the last time but I…I don’t want this to be over.”

“Me either,” Logan says, reaching for him, “Fuck, Julian, I don’t even remember why we thought breaking up was a good idea.”

“We said it was too hard,” Julian says, letting their hands tangle together, “We were too far apart and too busy and it was so _hard_ , Logan.”

“Well,” Logan says, thinking, “We’ve done a pretty good job like this. So what if it’s hard. We’re worth it, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Julian breathes, “Yeah. You’re worth it.”

Logan smiles, slowly.

“Well then. Julian Larson, you wanna be my boyfriend again?”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”


	13. Angel on Fire

_I used to be a darling starlet like a centerpiece_   
_Had the whole world wrapped around my ring_   
_I flew too closely to the sun that's setting in the east_   
_And now I'm melting from my wings_

_'Cause I'd laugh and drink and talk 'bout things_   
_And fall in love in my backyard_   
_Now it´s my own anxiety_   
_That makes the conversation hard_   
_'Cause nobody seems to ask about me anymore_   
_And nobody ever cares 'bout anything I think_   
_And nobody seems to recognize me in the crowd_   
_In the background screaming, "everybody, look at me”_

_And I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire_   
_And I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire_   
_I'm standing in the ashes of who I used to be_   
_But I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire_   
_You know, I used to be on fire_

  
Hell Night had changed him, he knows. He’d tried, at first, to act like his old self, to pretend everything was fine until he convinced himself it actually was. But it was too exhausting.

The stress of recovering, of healing his body and struggling through physical therapy was already too much. Trying to pretend he was okay just pushed him over the edge. He’d had a total breakdown in the middle of set one day, screaming and sobbing and pushing away anyone who’d tried to help.

Dolce had gotten it mostly covered up, though she’d forced him to pull out of everything for a few months. He’d spent weeks wandering listlessly around his own house, a month at Derek’s house, another at Logan’s. They’re worried about him, he knows, but were both too scared to ask, after he’d blown up at them one too many times.

He finds himself staring off into nothing more than once, with no idea of how long he’d been out of it. Finds his mind totally blank, eyes glazed over. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking too much, about all the things he hates about himself and all the things he’d done wrong to bring him to this point.

Logan and Derek try to pull him out of it, when they notice. More than once, he’s found himself snapping back to reality to Derek’s hand on his shoulder, or Logan’s hand on his own. They never question him, but they always stay close for a while, after, talking to him until he smiles again.

But he can’t hide in the Hamptons forever, and soon enough, he’s flying back to Hollywood. His schedule isn’t as packed as before, and he’s watched much more closely. Still, though, he finds himself sitting for interviews and reciting lines on set, and wonders why it all feels so different.

He’s always kept to himself on set, but now he finds himself so withdrawn he barely knows the names of his coworkers. He retreats to his trailer each time the director yells “cut”, locks himself in and just sits in silence until they come looking for him again. He feels like a ghost at parties, flitting through the crowds without ever actually talking to anyone, waiting for an appropriate time to leave.

He can’t bring himself to trust people, anymore. He flinches around fans now, though he tries to hide it. He’ll smile and sign autographs and let them gush, but he pulls away when they try to touch him, gestures for his bodyguard when he feels the anxiety getting to be too much. He knows it disappoints them, knows they’re used to a Julian Larson who grins freely, who hugs children and kisses girls on the cheek for selfies. But each time he feels their hands on him, all he can think is _Adam_ and _knives_ and _fire_ , and he suddenly feels himself unable to breath, desperate for an escape.

He hates it.

Hates feeling like he isn’t himself anymore. Hates feeling like he’ll never be himself again, like he’s always be this nervous, terrified, pathetic _child_ who can’t get through life like a normal person. Hates feeling so _weak_.

He cries more, now. He finds himself totally unable to control, sometimes; he tries to isolate himself when it happens, tries to sneak away before anyone notices.

He isn’t always successful.

He’s curled up on his sofa, arms wrapped around his own knees, feeling small and stupid and helpless. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, and he tries desperately to steady his breathing.

“Hey,” he hears, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m fine, Logan.”

He hears the door close, and footsteps pad towards him. The cushions shift beside him, and he knows Logan’s sitting down beside him.

“You kinda just took off in there, you know.”

“They’re loud. Everyone’s so fucking loud and stupid and I don’t want to deal with it.”

He knows Logan won’t believe him, knows his voice is trembling too much for his attempt at apathy to be convincing.

“You know it’s okay to not be okay, right?”

He looks up, blinking a few times to clear the tears from his eyes. Logan’s looking back at him, gaze soft.

He’d always wanted Logan to look at him that way.

Now it just feels like pity.

“I am,” he insists, “I am okay. All the doctors said — “

“All the doctors said you’re fine _physically_ ,” Logan corrects, “You’re done with physical therapy, sure. You don’t have any lasting nerve damage or anything, but so what?”

He reaches for Julian’s hand, cups it between both of his own. Julian’s horribly, terrifyingly aware of how close Logan is, his whole body pressed against Julian’s side.

“You went through something traumatic,” he says, softly, “Crazy traumatic. You had some crazed psychopath threaten you for months, drag you into a building, threaten you with a knife. You almost _burned to death_ , Julian. Nobody on earth could possibly be okay after all that.”

“Stop,” Julian begs, “Please. Please don’t. I don’t want to talk about all that.”

“You have too, Jules.”

“I don’t want to,” Julian’s voice breaks, and the tears start to spill. He pulls his hand away from Logan’s, tries to wipe the tears away. But Logan reaches for him again, stopping him.

“You’re allowed to cry, Julian,” he says insistently, “You’re allowed to hurt and be angry and cry. But you’re not allowed to pretend nothing happened. It’s not good for you.”

“I just want to be _me_ again,” Julian’s crying openly now, hating himself for looking so weak, hating Logan for not leaving, “I don’t like who I am anymore.”

Logan shifts to kneel in front of him, hands sliding up Julian’s arms to cup his face, more gently than he would’ve expected.

“You’re still you, Jules,” he says, “You’re still Julian fucking Larson. You went through something awful, and that’s gonna take some time to get over. But you’re still you.”

“So why don’t I feel like me?”

Logan hesitates, for a moment, “…I had to see a psychiatrist, when they put me on my meds.”

Julian looks up, tears subsiding a bit. Logan never talks about this, ever, and Julian feels oddly compelled to listen.

“I didn’t really…I was angry, that my father made me see them. I wasn’t totally honest, I didn’t tell them everything. All they knew was that I get angry sometimes and I can’t control it. The meds they put me on they…I hate them, you know? I don’t feel like myself on them. I don’t feel much of anything, when I take them.”

He takes a deep breath, “I think…I think they don’t work because they’re not what I need, you know? I’ve been…after everything that happened, Michelle asked me to talk to a therapist for real. And I think it’s helping. I’m on different medication, now. It’s not as…I still get mad sometimes. But I can control it. Therapy…it helps. Talking to someone.”

“You want me to see a therapist.”

“I think it’s worth trying. I think you probably have some degree of PTSD, or something, and maybe talking to someone can help you feel like yourself again.”

It sounds awful. Having to talk to someone about his feelings, having to admit that he’s not okay. The possibility of having to take pills, after seeing what they’ve done to Logan all these years.

“I have a session tomorrow,” Logan continues, “I told her a little about you. She said if you’re willing, I could bring you with me. That you could kind of watch and see what it’s like.”

“You want me to go to therapy with you?” Julian asks, “Like, sit in the room with you while you talk about your feelings?”

“Just think about it, please?” Logan squeezes his hand, “It’s kind of weird, I know. But it’s not as scary as it sounds.”

Julian takes another deep breath, and Logan waits patiently for a response.

“I’ll…I’ll think about,” he says, finally, “I don’t know. I have to think about it.”

“Okay,” Logan smiles, and ruffles his hair, “Let me know. Derek and I were gonna play some tennis, if you’re interested.”

“No,” Julian shakes his head, “I’m kind of tired, actually. I think I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when you guys get dinner?”

“Of course,” Logan stands, “I think it’s your turn to pick, so I’ll go ahead and make reservations at that sushi place, alright?”

Julian just smiles, softly, and watches Logan cross the room.

“Logan?” He says, right before the blond steps out of the room, “What time? For the therapy thing?”

“Ten,” Logan says, looking pleased, “It’s about twenty minutes away.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Logan smiles at him one last time, and closes the door behind him.

Julian wipes his eyes again and stands, setting an alarm on his phone before he can talk himself out of it. He crawls into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He feels calmer, somehow.

Maybe this’ll help.

Maybe, hopefully, he can be himself again.

Maybe.


	14. Devil In Me

  
_You said I'm too much to handle_   
_You said I_   
_Shine too bright, I burnt the candle_   
_Flew too high_   
_I won't take anyone down if I crawl tonight_   
_But I still let everyone down when I change in size_   
_And I went tumbling down tryna reach your high_   
_But I scream too loud if I speak my mind_

_I don't wanna wake it up_   
_I don't wanna wake it up_   
_I don't wanna wake it up_   
_The devil in me_   
_I don't wanna wake it up_   
_I don't wanna wake it up_   
_I don't wanna wake it up_   
_The devil in me_

Logan had always thought, naively, that meeting the right guy would fix all his problems.

But he’s _sure_ Julian’s the right guy, feels it so strongly it hurts sometimes.

And dating Julian doesn’t make his anger suddenly vanish.

He still catches his vision going red, his hands clenching so hard he draws blood from his palms. He still yells, and breaks things, and hurts people.

Hurts _Julian_.

He manages to stop himself before it gets too bad, these days. Manages to realize what’s going on before he pushes too far. But he’s still found himself, more than once, gripping Julian too tightly, a fist raised too close to Julian’s face. Still sees that slight tremor of fear in Julian’s eyes more times than he’d like to admit.

He’s terrified, that one day he won’t catch himself. That one day, his fist will collide with Julian’s face, or he’ll push him too hard. That one day, he’ll actually hurt him, the way he’d sworn he never will again, and that Julian won’t stop him.

Julian’s been through enough, and Logan hates that he’s now having to deal with _him_.

But he also can’t bear the thought of letting him go.

Julian might not make the anger go away, but he does always know how to deal with it. He’ll let Logan yell, watch patiently as he destroys entire rooms, but he’ll also wrap him in his arms afterward, rub soothing circles into his back until Logan calms down. It’s odd, the calming effect Julian seems to have on him recently. The way he always seems to know what Logan needs to make the anger go away. The way he doesn’t try to change Logan like everyone else.

He is, though, the first person Logan wants to change for.

He doesn’t like getting angry around Julian, hates when he sees faint bruises on Julian’s skin that he put there. He tries so, so hard to keep his temper in check around him. Tries desperately to keep the anger at bay.

He fails, more than he’d like to admit. Sometimes the anger is just so strong, so overwhelming, that he can’t think of anything else, and he’s suddenly snarling, pushing Julian against the wall, fist curling into his shirt…

“Hey,” Julian’s saying softly, his voice somehow cutting through the rage and making Logan pause, “Hey, Lo, look at me, okay?”

He curls his hand around Logan’s, squeezes lightly until Logan’s fist relaxes.

“Look at me. Look right at me,” Julian’s still saying, gently, “It’s okay.”

Logan takes a breath and drops his hand, but Julian doesn’t let go.

“You okay?” Julian asks, and Logan just drops his forehead to Julian’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, sinking into Julian’s arms, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Julian says, wrapping his arms around Logan, “I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s not I’m a fucking _monster_ you don’t deserve this.”

“Hey,” Julian says firmly, hands sliding up to Logan’s face, “Look at me. Don’t you ever say that to me.”

“You don’t,” Logan sobs, “It’s not fair to you.”

“Logan, I _love_ you,” Julian says, forcing Logan’s chin up to look in his eyes, “So don’t tell me what I deserve, okay? Because I want you.”

“I’m gonna hurt you,” Logan says, tearfully, “You know I am. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Don’t say that,” Julian wipes his tears, “You see how fast you calmed down today? You’re getting better at controlling it.”

“You don’t stop me,” Logan gasps, “You never — fuck Jules, how come you never _stop_ me?”

“Because I trust you. You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you, Logan.”

“I don’t.”

Julian sighs and squeezes Logan’s shoulders.

“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you, Logan. I’m not going anywhere just because you get angry sometimes.”

He rises up on his toes, presses a kiss to Logan’s lips.

“I’m not leaving. Stop waiting for me to.”

“I don’t…”

“You do,” Julian looks serious now, “Every single time we fight, you look at me like you’re ready for me to walk out that door. But I’m not going to. You’re stuck with me. So get used to it.”

He gives Logan’s hand one last squeeze and turns, headed towards the kitchen.

“Jules,” Logan blurts out, “I…I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“No matter how angry I get,” he continues, “I still love you. Please never forget that.”

Julian smiles at him, softly, “I won’t. Promise.”

Logan can hear him rustling around the kitchen, hears the opening and closing of their cabinets.

“Any dinner requests?” He calls out, “I can make spaghetti or…slightly differently flavored spaghetti.”

“Whatever you want, Jules.”

Logan curls and uncurls his fists, feeling the tension in his hands loosen. He bends down to pick up the photograph he’d knocked off the wall — a picture from high school graduation; Logan standing in the center, Derek to his left with a huge grin and his diploma held aloft, and Julian to his right, arms wound around Logan’s stomach and chin tilted up, beaming. He smiles at it before gently placing it back.

Sure, he’s not perfect. Sure, he’s still working on things.

But this man — this beautiful, talented man who’s no doubt burning noodles in their kitchen right now — _loves him_.

Really, isn't that all he needs?


	15. Hopeless

  
_'Cause you know the truth hurts, but secrets kill_   
_Can't help thinkin' that I love it stillStill here, there must be something real_   
_'Cause you know the good die youngBut so did this, and so it must be better than I think it is_   
_Gimme those eyes, it's easy to forgive_

_Oh-oh-oh_   
_I hope hopeless_   
_Oh-ooh_   
_Changes over time_

_I’m in love with Logan Wright._

It’s a horrifying, revolting thought, and Julian can’t get it out of his mind.

_I’m in love with Logan Wright._

His stomach hurts; he wants to throw up and lay down and run all at the same time. Logan’s still walking away from him, that bright blond hair weaving through crowds of teenagers, none of whom realize that Julian Larson is currently _falling apart._

_I’m in love. With Logan Wright._

He doesn’t want this. He’s never felt this before, this yearning feeling in his gut, this inexplicable desire to do everything in his power to make his best friend look at him. He always expects the opposite — for people to want him, without ever really knowing who he is.

But Logan knows him, and Logan likes him, and Julian’s going to ruin everything with these stupid, ridiculous _feelings_.

  
.

  
For a few months, Julian hopes, stupidly, that he might be able to convince Logan to feel the same way. He finds himself doing ridiculous things: bringing Logan coffee, buying him expensive birthday presents, inviting him to parties. Logan always smiles, makes an awful, painful bubble of happiness well up in Julian’s chest, but he always, always looks away, attention diverted by some pretty boy walking past.

When Logan meets Blaine, that tiny bubble of hope bursts, suddenly and painfully.

Logan’s absolutely _smitten_ with this kid, seems to like every single part of him, from the ridiculous dance moves to the absurd amount of gel he uses every day. He _gushes_ over Blaine, won’t _shut up_ about how much he likes him.

It fucking _hurts_.

So Julian does the only thing he can do — he pushes the feeling deep, deep down inside, and smiles. He helps Logan plan dates, pulls strings to get sold-out concert tickets.

And he cries to himself, locked in his bedroom, the night Logan asks Blaine to be his boyfriend.

And he buys a plane ticket.

.

  
_They broke up. Logan’s a mess._

He gets the text in the middle of a workday, in one of the few small breaks he gets while on set. He stares at it for a moment, willing himself to feel nothing, to not care.

_It’s bad, Jules. He needs you._

Julian sighs and throws his phone aside. He’s going to go back, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself not to. He’s going to go back, and he’s going to comfort Logan, and he’s going to pretend he doesn’t want to rip Blaine apart for whatever he did to hurt him.

He books his flight that night, walks back into Stuart two days later. He lets Logan cry, and rant, and talk about how _lonely_ he is. He does what he can — takes Logan out to lunch, buys him a new keyboard, sings with him.

And, when Logan’s eyes start wandering to another boy, _Joshua fucking Tipton_ , Julian gives him tips, talks him up to the kid. Freezes, the night he sees Logan pulling Joshua into his room, their lips locked.

Buys another plane ticket.

  
.

  
It’s pathetic, he knows, to pine so desperately over someone who’s never going to so much as look his way. He knows Logan will never want him that way, knows he’s an idiot for trying so hard to get Logan’s attention. Knows it’s a waste of time, putting all this time and money and energy into someone who never notices.

But he can’t _stop_.

He wants Logan to be happy. Needs Logan to be happy. It keeps him distracted, keeps him from hurting over the fact that Logan’s looking at someone else the way Julian’s always wanted him to look at _him_.

But it fucking _hurts_.

He isn’t sure how much longer he can do this, how long he can keep pretending he’s happy.

And then Kurt Hummel transfers in, and Julian knows it’s all over.

The way Logan looks at Kurt makes Julian want to curl up and die. The way his eyes soften when he looks at him, the sweet way he talks about him, the _songs_ he sings for him…it cuts Julian so deeply he knows this is it.

He’s going to break, and he doesn’t want Logan to be around to see it.

But then the threats come, and Logan’s life is in danger, and Julian can’t leave.

Though, he thinks, as his body crashes three floors down, maybe Logan would’ve been better off if he had.

  
.

  
He knows Logan’s trying to get a hold of him.

He sees the texts, the missed calls. The emails, the fucking _Twitter_ messages.

He doesn’t read a single one.

He can’t hear it, the apologies Logan’s no doubt sending, the, “ _I’m sorry, I don’t feel that way_ ”’s. He’s spent three years denying and avoiding, and he won’t let Logan ruin that for him now. He can keep pretending he’s okay, keep acting like he doesn’t feel that way. If he just ignores Logan, everything will be fine.

But then Logan shows up at his door, and that plan goes to hell.

He doesn’t try to bring up Julian’s confession, not at first. He just keeps asking how Julian’s doing and what he needs. He brings him food, sits beside him while he marathons every show he’s considered watching, fucking sings him to sleep. It’s weird, being treated like this, like Logan _cares_.

Part of him needs this, craves this — Logan holding him when he cries, stroking his hand late at night, kissing his forehead when he gets up. With each tiny gesture Logan performs, his stomach flutters.

The other part of him _hates_ this. Hates feeling exactly what it must be like to be loved by Logan Wright, knowing that it won’t last. That it’s all done out of guilt, that as soon as Julian’s better, Logan will stop all of this.

He doesn’t know what to do with this.

  
.

  
Logan kisses him, in June, and all Julian feels is panic.

He kisses back, of course, because he’s not an idiot and he knows this might be the only chance he gets to feel Logan’s mouth on his. He milks it, for all it’s worth, winding his arms around Logan’s neck and pressing close until he forgets that this isn’t his, that Logan will never, _never_ want him like this.

When they break apart, Logan’s smiling, softly, and his hand sweeps up to cup Julian’s face, one thumb brushing at his swollen lips. He’s saying something, softly, but Julian’s brain is _screaming_ at him, and he misses it.

Logan keeps _touching_ him, after, holding his hand as they walk together and pulling Julian into his lap at every opportunity. He kisses him, again, repeatedly, and Julian had no idea what this is.

Then Logan calls him his _boyfriend_ , and Julian has to duck into the bathroom before he has a full-fledged panic attack.

This isn’t _fair_ , what Logan’s doing. It isn’t fucking fair, giving Julian everything he’s ever wanted and pretending he won’t just rip it all away. Logan doesn’t want him. He knows that, has spent three goddamn years accepting the fact, and this bullshit fake-dating pity thing _isn’t. fucking. fair._

But he wants this, _god_ , does he want this. The holding and the kissing and the smiling, all of it fake, but all of it for _Julian_.

He’s so, so scared of what’s going to happen to him when this ends.

  
.

  
Logan says _I love you_ in August, and Julian doesn’t make it to the bathroom before the panic attack sets in.

He’s gasping for breath, clutching at his chest, and Logan’s worried face swims in his vision.

 _You don’t_ , he hears, barely recognizing his own voice, _you don’t you don’t you don’t._

Logan looks hurt, reaches out for Julian, gathers him up in his arms even as he’s trembling and sobbing and you don’t you don’t you don’t.

Logan just holds him until he stops, until the tears subside and his chest stops aching.

 _I do_ , he murmurs, wiping tears from Julian’s face, _I do love you, I thought you knew that._

Julian didn’t. Doesn’t. Can’t believe it, that after all those years of hopelessness, he might actually have a chance at this. But Logan’s still holding him, still pressing soft kisses to his face, still staring at him with that look Julian had only ever dreamt about.

Maybe this is real.

Maybe he can have this.

Maybe, after all those years of pain and hurt and hopelessness, he’s finally getting the chance to be _happy_.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I did two weeks of Jogan
> 
> The end


End file.
